If Ever There Were A Way
by Melitza
Summary: Her warrior spirit drove her to challenge destiny. She would never let it end that way. SanMir Miroku x Sango. Rated for violence.
1. Anything

**Disclaimer: If I owned Inuyasha, I'd be filthy rich – and if I were filthy rich, I wouldn't need to go to college. And if that were so, why would I be fretting over Materials Science Engineering soooo much right about now? Moreover, I don't own the song used in this either. Slipknot does, believe it or not! It will be put in italics.**

**Claimer: This was inspired by every single fanfiction about Sango and Miroku out there that ends, albeit momentarily happy, with the looming of Miroku's death – namely, almost every single canon fic out there! This is my reply to you.**

**IF EVER THERE WERE A WAY…**

Anything

Despite what was undoubtedly his best attempts to muffle the noise, gentle moans of pain still wafted out from the miko's hut. The five companions of the pained man, hovering worriedly outside the thin barrier, dealt with the situation in their own typical ways.

"Damn that monk! He just had to pick this time, didn't he?" Inuyasha snarled; despite his best attempt at ire, however, a hint of worry had slipped into his words. To belie the momentary slip, the hanyou crossed his arms and looked stubbornly away from the others. "We were so damn close to Naraku!"

"Inuyasha!" Kagome hissed, her voice laden with warning. Her brown eyes, which had only a moment before filled with concern, flamed with indignant contempt towards the half-dog-demons attitude.

"It's not like Miroku decided to get sick," Shippou defended the ailing monk – or, perhaps more accurately, agreed with his foster-mother. "If anyone can fix him, it's Kaede - and once he is better, we can go on!" Even Kirara, who was cuddled down with the young fox demon, mewed her agreement.

One member of the party failed to contribute to the ensuing half-hearted argument, and her silence suddenly became pointedly obvious. "Sango-chan?" Kagome murmured worriedly, the flame behind her eyes quickly giving way to a gentle ocean concern as she looked towards the silent demon-exterminator. The young miko looked expectantly at her best friend, obviously waiting for Sango to give her input.

Of course, she had been vaguely aware of their idle chatter, but the young slayer couldn't bring herself to participate in the trivial pittance; no, Sango's concentration was somewhere else entirely. Her deep brown eyes seemed to conveniently miss the five other pairs that now were staring at her, obviously waiting for some response; instead, Sango fixated on that one pair that _wasn't_ there – that intelligent, wandering violet gaze that she had grown so used to these past months – these past years.

The silence was painfully awkward. "Sango-chan?" Kagome squeaked again, blatent concern washing over her features. It wasn't until the young miko moved to approach her that a reaction was finally stirred from the melancholy slayer.

"I just – I don't know! I just need to be alone!" Sango snapped, leaping abruptly to her feet to storm away from the hut.

Vaguely, she was aware of Inuyasha huffing, "What is her problem?" as she brushed past him. She imagined her other companion's looks of confusion at her abrupt departure – but she couldn't bring herself to care.

Every step away from the hut was progressively difficult to take. As Miroku's pained moans became more and more difficult to hear with distance, Sango couldn't help but to feel as if she were losing him – as if every step away she took from him was a growing chasm between them.

Despite Kagome-chan's usual chipper insistence, everything was not ok.

Everything was _not_ ok. Not this time.

Shippou and Kagome were optimists at heart – they could gladly and willingly overlook the reality of any situation, ignoring the real probability of any given outcome. Even Inuyasha, in his own brash way, was optimistic. He was able to fight in any battle, no matter how tired, beaten, and downtrodden he might be, regardless of his own safety, regardless of the seeming odds.

Sango, though not nearly as brash as the tempered hanyou, was determined, if not optimistic. That isn't to say she wasn't hopeful – no, not at all. It was a faint glimmering hope on the far distant horizon that allowed her to rise every morning – it was that faint glimmer alone that had allowed her to rise from her own grave, in point of fact. Her entire family, her entire life had been stolen from her, and now her own beloved brother was a mere tool to be used against her by the one demon she hated the most in the world – Naraku. She had lived and continued to live through more than most ever had to deal with throughout their entire lives, all before she had even reached the tender age of twenty years. And yet still, the young warrior pressed on, with determination and hope if nothing else.

And then there was Miroku. To Sango, he was the most complex paradox of them all. Miroku was a cursed man; his wind tunnel, passed down and inherited from his grandfather to his father to him by Naraku, was as sure a declaration of death as any. The void in his hand grew larger with each use, a seeping void that slowly devoured more of his body by the day and would continue to do so until the one who placed the curse – Naraku – was killed. And even with that realization, Miroku was still greeted each day with cheerful optimism, a smile on his face, and playful banter and actions seemingly never far from his mind. The monk was not a stupid man – he was intelligent and reflective; he knew, better than any of them could, what, exactly, his future held in store for him, making his composure that much more remarkable.

Miroku's wind tunnel – perhaps his strongest weapon – would be the thing that claimed his life. His fate had been sealed the moment his father had died and passed on the curse. Sometimes Sango wondered if he had known and worried about his fate even before the untimely death of his father, or even before he was old enough to truly comprehend the finality of death.

Such musings had no pull on the truth of the matter, however: someday, the void would consume him.

Even when she tried to be optimistic, determined, and hopeful, the thought came unbidden to Sango, stabbing her heart in a bitter reminder: 'Someday' had come much too soon.

A violent sob wracked itself from Sango's body as the demon slayer abruptly ended her hasty retreat, collapsing none-too-gently to the ground in a heap. She clenched her jaw angrily and tried to blink away the burning tears that threatened to slip from her eyes, but was fast losing the battle. It took only a few moments for her valiant efforts to fall far short of the mark; grief choked her throat as another sob shook her – and another. And another.

"Why?" Sango moaned, slamming her fist into the ground, her eyes blurry with tears. "Oh Kami, please, I beg of you… I am not strong enough to bear this… please…"

_Wish I was  
Too dead to cry  
My self-affliction fades  
Stones to throw at my creator  
Masochist to which I cater_

Sango had always likened herself to a warrior. She had always been consumed with a need to do her best in life. She had always taken what life threw at her in stride; even after her entire village – her entire _family_ – had been murdered before her very eyes, and even when she had been put into her early grave, she had refused to die. Would that she had – then she wouldn't be here, faced with the imminent, final blow on her already shattered soul…

_Wish I died  
Instead of lived  
A zombie hides my face  
Shell forgotten with its memories  
Diaries left with cryptic entries_

A burning desire to defeat Naraku was her primary purpose in life. Even though she had been left with nothing – absolutely nothing – she had persevered. Even in her darkest moments, when she had first come from the grave and had no one in the world, friends, family, or otherwise, she had leapt at that opportunity for vengeance in attacking Inuyasha.

It seemed like so long ago, but she couldn't deny that it had happened. Of course she had later realized that she had just been manipulated and used for his purposes, much in the similar way Kohaku had been – but by then, Inuyasha, Kagome, Shippou, and Miroku had taken her in. Even after she had tried to kill them, they took her in. Though not her blood-family, they were _a family_. They became the support mechanism that allowed Sango to move on. Thanks to them, Sango had slowly realized that it was possible to have a present and future, even if it wasn't as she had been intending.

Oh yes; getting back at Naraku had always played a forefront. For those first weeks, months even, that intention had been the only redeeming light at the end of the tunnel. The mere _thought_ of sending the demon that had taken her _everything_ straight to hell where he belonged had given her the strength necessary to take one step at a time. Sending Naraku to hell and releasing Kohaku from his manipulations was still important to her – but when had things begun to change?

Gradually – oh so very gradually – this ragtag band of unlikely heroes had grown on her. Kagome had quickly become her loving sister and best friend. Inuyasha, gradually, became the stubborn and brash older brother she had never had, and Shippou like a cheerful and playful younger one.

The thought never really left her mind; some shattered part of her soul whispered warningly, '_You've already lost everyone who means anything to you, and now you choose to associate with others marked by Naraku? It's dangerous to care for them._'

Perhaps more than anything – most certainly more than death – Sango feared losing even more than she already had. She teetered a very fine line in her long-lasting grief, never too far from being consumed by it. Her true family – her fellow taijiya – never strayed far from her mind, and the young slayer was certain that she could bear no more loss in her life. She was certain that the grief would be too much to bear; there was only so much a person could take and stay sane.

And still, here she was, traveling and caring for these people who could, at any moment, be ripped painfully from her life. What right did these people have to become so close to her? What right did they have to coerce their way into her hesitant heart?

More pointedly, what right did Miroku have to coerce himself into her hesitant life? Miroku, whose life had been forfeit since the moment he was born into the curse?

Of all of the people in the entire world, why did it have to be Miroku who had comprised the final member of the party? Of all the possible people seeking vengeance against Naraku, why did it have to be the monk? Sango had already lost too much in her life; the very last thing she needed was to care in any regard for someone whose life was already ending.

Moreover, the very last thing she needed was to love someone whose life was already ending. Sango had no business falling in love with Miroku.

But she had.

_Wish I was  
Too dead to care  
If indeed I cared at all  
Never had a voice to protest  
So you fed me s-t to digest_

Oh, how reluctantly she had fallen in love!

Of course it was unfair to portray Miroku as having deliberately seduced his way into her heart. The houshi, for all of his good humor, was much more intelligent than he cared to let on, Sango had slowly realized through her time of knowing him. He had known how very fragile she was – perhaps from the very beginning – and he had deliberately used his lecherous antics to keep her at bay.

She hadn't always been keen to his tactics. His antics had worked exceedingly well for months, or even for more than that first year. It seemed every time they started to have a moment, every time they began to get a little _too_ close – or even every time she felt ready to be consumed by her melancholy – a naughty hand examining parts of her body it _shouldn't_ be had always snatched away the fleeting moment, leaving in its wake anger instead, coupled with a red-handprint on the houshi's cheek.

It had taken a long time before the 'random lechery' began to seem less random, and an even longer time still before she had finally recognized the acting pattern.

Miroku – though admittedly a shameless flirt – wasn't the unforgivably impulsive lecher she (and everyone else) had assumed he was. No; Miroku was an intelligent, sensitive, kind, caring man. A man who realized that he, whose cruel fate was sealed, had no right to ask for the love of a woman who had already lost too much.

What cruel irony was it that this ultimate proof of compassion was what had finalized that grudgingly blooming love in her heart?

It hadn't happened instantaneously. No, it had been a slow dawning realization, a realization that had seeped into her unconscious and secretly thawed her self-fashioned wall of ice, setting free that fond warmness she had been fighting so hard to contain. Of course Sango still rewarded his wandering hands with swift retribution, but it had long ago become a simple matter of making the motions. Even as they continued their half-heartedly attempts to keep each other at arms length, both knew the jig was up. Gradually, Sango had become keen on Miroku's tactics – and just as gradually, Miroku had become keen on Sango's realization.

And so, it had happened. The young slayer had fallen hopelessly in love with the last person in the world she should have, and he with her.

What horrible, bitter irony, that she who had already lost _everything_ had lived only to promptly secure a future of the same agonizing loss for herself.

Miroku's cursed kazaana was swallowing him whole – he had overextended the cursed hands one too many times, and now – now as his days were drawing to a close – Sango realized the extend of her feelings for him. She _loved_ him. She loved him greatly, and even knowing that he was soon going to die she couldn't dampen the overwhelming torrent of emotions.

Even as the woman warrior cursed her traitorous heart and all the fates that had placed the houshi in her path, she knew it was all futile. What had happened had happened, and it was long past time to turn back. But as with everything else she had ever cherished, the love was tainted by Naraku. The pain from his curse had claimed Miroku, and now he lay in a hut receiving what little medical attention possible to forestay being whisked away; ever Naraku loomed, threatening to take that last thing that mattered to her.

"Gods-curse you Naraku! I'll send you to hell with my bare hands – I _will_ kill you! You can't have him!" Sango screamed her defiant snarl, slamming her fist so hard into the rocks of the path that her knuckles tore and bled.

"I will do anything…" The words had slipped from her between shuddering sobs, and the moment they left her lips something within her recoiled, recalling and dwelling upon the words with a fierce fascination that she couldn't quite consciously understand.

_  
And you don't need to bother  
I don't need to be  
I'll keep slipping farther  
But once I hold on  
I won't let go 'till it bleeds_

Slowly – very slowly – her sobs began to subside, leaving the young woman curled wonderingly on the ground. '_I would do anything,_' she repeated with silent wonder, realizing the extent of truth in those simple words. With even more wonder, she realized that the words were not bourne from hate, but from love…

She would do _anything_ for Miroku.

The realization stole the breath from her, leaving the slayer staring fixatedly at the rocks of the path on which she was sprawled.

"I will do anything," she repeated uncertainly, as if tasting the words, her mind working lethargically. Her brown eyes, only minutes before willed with anguish, flashed with steely resilience. "You won't have him." With a new resolve, the slayer picked herself up off the ground and stalked back towards the village.


	2. Strange

Strange

Kaede had long since emerged from the hut, stating firmly that she had done all she could to lesson his pain. Unspoken, but understood nonetheless, was the fact that Miroku's time was drawing near.

His moans had subsided a while ago, and now it sounded as if he rested quietly, if not peacefully, within. And still, Sango had not returned.

"I wonder where Sango went off to?" Shippou voiced aloud for probably the twelfth time since the girl had left. Kagome sighed.

"She just needed some time to be alone," Kagome replied confidently, though she didn't feel nearly as secure as she sounded. The young slayer was undoubtedly strong – no one questioned that. She had already dealt with more loss than anyone should in an entire lifetime, and still she fought on as fiercely as the rest. Though she put on a brave front, Kagome knew that the other girl kept her melancholy to herself, fighting it on the inside, alone as ever. The only signs she ever gave of her silent torment were the silent, longing gazes you could sometimes steal from her when she thought no one was looking.

Kagome loved Sango for that, she loved her as truly and deeply as a sister. She admired the girl, and even though she herself was extroverted and wished her best friend would open up more often, she couldn't deny the kind of strength it took for the slayer to handle the long-lasting grief mostly in solitude. Sango had mourned and then moved on with a kind of determination that amazed the young miko.

Ever since the very first signs at chemistry between the demon exterminator and monk, Kagome had been overjoyed and ecstatic about the potential romance. Though sometimes things had been rocky, these past months things had slowly been changing between Sango and Miroku. Things were far from perfect – but, at least to Kagome, it was clear that the two cared for one another (well… except maybe to the ever-oblivious Inuyasha).

Kagome had found it so endearing; she had been congratulating herself on a match well-made since the very beginning.

She wasn't congratulating herself today.

The true gravity of Miroku's cursed hand had never really dawned upon her until today. The fact that he was always so close to death's door hadn't really occurred to her. But the moment the monk, who was usually so nonchalant about his own injuries, had been seized by pain so great he had been unable to go on by himself, it had finally sunk in.

Naraku had eluded them for too long.

Belatedly, Kagome felt guilty and sheepish for having tried to match-make between the slayer and monk. Though on some level, she realized that it had all happened without her interference, she couldn't help but to feel a rush of shame for her own eagerness towards the matching. Sango had lost everything, and now she was going to lose Miroku.

Well, Miroku wasn't dead yet, and that optimistic part of herself (which usually was the vast majority) insisted that they could still have time… But the rest of her noted, with sickening realization, that for every step closer they came to Naraku, the deceitful demon seemed to be able to maneuver two steps back. It was doubtful that now would be any different.

And so, Kagome hadn't even attempted to stop Sango when the girl had rushed from the village. She couldn't even imagine the kind of preemptive anguish the girl was experiencing, and while she wanted to help, she knew that it was probably best (for now) to let Sango deal with it the way she knew best: alone.

So, the young miko sat with a falsely calm composure, waiting patiently for her friends return, her hands twitching from the idleness. The sun had long since traveled its idle path across the sky, and was probably slipping beneath the horizon. Though the forest around prevented her from seeing the sunset, the growing dark announced its arrival. The shadows of the trees were stretching, shrouding the earth in growing darkness.

"It's getting dark. If Sango-chan doesn't come soon, we should go look for her," Kagome decided tentatively.

"Feh. She's coming right now," Inuyasha announced, sniffing. His nose curled a little in disdain, but whatever scent it was that caught his attention, he apparently decided not to announce it. Sure enough, however, Kagome's worried brown eyes picked out her friend slowly making her way through the shadows towards the village.

"Sango! Are you okay Sango? Kagome-chan said you needed time alone, and we were going to come and get you, but then Inuyasha smelled you coming –" Shippou was immediately off like an arrow. He bounded to the other girl, babbling on in his chipper child-like innocence. "Kaede-sama said that Miroku shouldn't be in as much pain now, so he's going to be fine –"

Kagome clenched her jaw slightly; she had tried to call Shippou back, but once the kitsune got excited, he was nearly uncontainable. As it were, the miko blanched slightly as he babbled on to Sango, and she half expected the other girl to cry.

But Sango did not. Instead, she listened intently to everything the young fox-demon had to say, and nodded solemnly. "Can I go in to see him?" she asked instead, surprising everyone.

"Yes, Sango-chan. Of course," Kagome replied uncertainly; her brown eyes shone with worry for her friend, but the taijiya seemed oblivious. The slayer held herself aloof, and there was a certain calm composure about her that surprised and confused Kagome.

'_She… is taking this well,_' the priestess finally decided, uncertainly. She noted her friends scraped knuckles, though, and decided that the slayer was simply too graceful to have tripped and skinned them so badly on accident; no, Sango must be feeling _some_ inner turmoil. The blood must have been what Inuyasha had smelled. At any rate, Kagome decided it was probably best not to bug her about it.

"Thank you, Kagome," Sango replied calmly; instead of walking straight past her into the hut, however, the slayer paused and grabbed the miko into a whole-hearted embrace. Before Kagome could react, the girl whispered again, "Thank you for everything. You've been such a good friend to me, always, and you've been so good to me."

Surprised, Kagome quickly returned the embrace, not quite understanding what had brought about the sudden change in her friend. "That's what best friends are for, silly!" she tried to banter lightly. The slayer just smiled and nodded in reply.

After Sango had quietly disengaged from the hug and entered the hut, her companions stared after her in quiet confusion.

"That was weird," Inuyasha huffed finally, crossing his arms and tilting up his nose dismissively.

"Yeah. I guess," Kagome replied, still staring after her friend, gentle confusion nagging at the back of her mind. Something seemed – off – about the way her friend had just acted…

"I'm hungry – shouldn't you be cooking or something?" Inuyasha interrupted her train of thought with one of his typical rude comments. Kagome quickly abandoned her mild bewilderment in favor of admonishing the hanyou, and all consideration of Sango's strangeness was quickly all but forgotten.


	3. Confessions

Confessions

Miroku heard the feet shuffling quietly against the floor and immediately knew who it was. He felt a little sheepish admitting that he could recognize Sango from the mere sound of her footfalls, but he could argue that it was just because she was a huntress. Like everything about her, her steps were graceful and precise.

The young slayer took great care to approach his side quietly, and once there he heard the gentle whispering of fabric as she dropped down to his side.

"I was hoping you'd come," he admitted aloud, slowly opening his blue-violet eyes.

"I was hoping you'd be awake," she admitted in return, a little smile playing upon her lips. Much to his surprise, she reached out and gently – oh so gently – pushed a strand of his raven hair from his forehead. He expected her to immediately withdraw, but was surprised when her warmth did not depart from his skin; instead, she slowly turned her hand to trail the back of her fingers down his face.

The raw tenderness of the gesture startled the immobile monk, and he choked a little as his throat constricted of its own volition. His mind reeled a little at the unexpected display.

Sango continued her feather-light caress, tracing his cheek, and then his jaw line, watching and caressing him with a rapt kind of fascination that made him flush and forget all his earlier pain.

Instead, he closed his eyes for a moment, reveling in the rare display of affection. Feeling _her_ touching _him_ matter his stomach flutter with warmth and desire, and for a moment, Miroku wondered feverishly if this were some sort of a wonderful dream… Could she possibly feel the same for him as he did for her?

Absently, the reached to place his hands over both of hers, still trailing fleetingly over his features. He captured the hands and pressed them harder against his face, as if to substantiate her fleeting caress, to assure himself she was really there.

He twined his fingers among hers, squeezing her small hands tightly within his. As cheesy as it sounded, the mere embrace of their hands seemed amazingly intimate. He knew there must have been some confusion in his violet gaze as he shifted to look at her in askance…

And found himself staring raptly into a pair of deep brown eyes from across a suddenly very narrow distance. He could feel her warm breath in his face, and he felt another sharp pang of desire, even as she leaned in closer…

Their lips were so close he felt their breaths mingling – it felt hard to breath…

'_It's because you're dying,_' a small part of his consciousness refused to let him forget, and the reminder was like a sharp jab in the gut. '_Don't do this to her, Miroku. Not now._'

Abruptly, Miroku let go of their intimate hand clasp, his hands quickly moving to her shoulders to gently keep her at bay. "Sango –" he rasped guiltily, trying to shrink away before his emotions got the better of him.

He expected her to look hurt, or confused, or angry. He expected her to blush embarrassedly, mumble something, and make a hasty exit – but she didn't.

Instead, she smiled, but there was no joy in that smile. There was sadness in the expression, and her eyes seemed to glitter with restrained emotion. She stared at him, silently contemplating for several moments. When she finally spoke, her voice was filled with a surge of feeling he couldn't really begin to interpret.

"I know, Miroku. I know." Strange, how so few words could convey so much; something reverberated through the statement, and Miroku couldn't bring himself to doubt it. She knew – everything.

The hands that he had disengaged from his face returned slowly, as if she were afraid that moving quickly might frighten him. "It's okay." Certainly there was sadness in her voice – but there was also resolve, and… love.

He didn't need to be told twice. Hearing it in her voice overwhelmed him, and for a moment, the normally perfectly-composed monk lost his resolve to hold the woman he longed for so greatly at arms length. After only a heartbeat of hesitant confusion he flung his arms around her, pulling her down into him into a strong embrace.

He wrapped his arms tightly around her slender body, crushing her against him, fiercely willing this moment to last forever. He was pleased when he felt her return the passionate embrace.

"It's okay," she repeated again, her voice muffled now since she had her face pressed into the robes of his shoulder. "It's okay. Because I love you."

"Sango –" The air rushed from his lungs; had she just said – that she loved him?

"I love you," she repeated again, as if she knew his internal disbelief. She disengaged herself from his robes so as to look into his eyes. "I love you."

His heart skipped a beat for joy, and yet still squeezed with pain. He couldn't bring himself to lie to her – not now; not ever again.

"I love you, too, Sango. With all my heart. With all my soul!" he vowed fervently, crushing her into another embrace. For a moment, a bemused thought entered his mind…

'_I'm glad I love such a strong woman, or I'd be afraid of breaking her…_' As it were, he probably left her breathless for a few moments for the tightness of the squeeze, and yet still it wasn't enough. He rubbed his cheek against hers, and then breathed in a deep scent of her, catching the gentle scent of jasmine.

Abruptly, he felt her pulling slightly back. When he looked at her in askance, she just slowly leaned back towards his face, and once again, their lips approached –

But still, his conscience insisted that he give one last warning…

"Sango – I don't know how much longer –"

"I _know_, Miroku," she repeated her earlier statement, emphasis now in the words. She looked into his eyes meaningfully, and his heart skipped a few beats.

'_She knows I'm going to die, and she loves me anyway._' "I don't want to – hurt you –"

"It's okay," she breathed, and silenced any more protest by gently – oh so gently – caressing his lips with her own…

All protests (and, admittedly, self-restraint) died right there, and what little more they said that night was of secondary interest.

Hours later they lay in silent contentment, basking in each others scents and warmth. Miroku's heart was still thundering wildly; he could scarcely believe that he was lying here with Sango in his arms, his hands twined in her silken locks. He was rather sure he had slipped into the reverie of sleep until he heard a very quiet whisper from the woman he was cradling.

"Miroku? Are you still awake?"

He couldn't smother the grin. "Of course I am. I want to relish every moment."

To his mild confusion, she shifted slightly in discomfort; he immediately pulled back, his violet eyes flashing with worry. Before he could ask anything, however, she continued, staring fixatedly at a point beyond him rather than meeting his gaze. "I just needed you to know – that if ever there were a way for this to end happily…" her voice cracked slightly with smothered tears, but she courageously finished, "If ever there were a way for this to end happily, I would have gladly taken it."

"I know Sango – I know," he whispered, smothering her in another tight embrace. "And I, as well…"

Something about her words nagged at the back of his mind, but once again all suspicions and protests were shoved aside in favor of relishing the moment…


	4. Beseech

Beseech

The forest nothing more than a blur as she sprinted; she tried not to make too much noise, but when it came down to it, she'd rather get where she was going in quickness over stealth. It was dangerous to be still for any length of time when carrying what she did, especially when she was a mere human traveling alone in the forest…

Well, mostly alone. Closely at her heels, the ever-faithful Kirara mewed as she tried to keep up with her mistress. The pair had flown for a long while, but once they had neared their destination Sango had known they'd have better chances of finding it while on foot in this heavy mist.

"I know it's here somewhere," she panted aloud, straining all her senses. She prayed that a demon didn't sense her and attack through the early morning mists; in this thick forest her hiraikotsu wouldn't be of a great use, especially with the damned fog shrouding everything. If she were attacked, she could only pray that she heard it coming…

The hairs on the back of her neck prickled, and the slayer was all-too-aware of the fact that if she were attacked, it was she and Kirara – and that was it. No one else was there watching her back; she was alone. Sango had never traveled and fought entirely alone, before – not since that single time she had gone after Inuyasha. Her entire life she had trained and fought with her taijiya companions; and then, she had joined the hanyou and his group…

The thought of the others caused her heart to stab with guilt and regret. Her mind flitted back to her companions, and Sango felt tears brimming in her eyes.

_  
You don't need to bother  
I don't need to be  
I'll keep slipping farther  
But once I'm gone  
I'll never live down my deceit_

"I'm sorry," she whispered, as if they could hear it; as if her apology made any difference. Even as she felt regret, she refused to change her course.

'_It must be done._'

A sudden change in atmosphere and a low growl from Kirara was all the warning she had; abruptly, a lone priestess materialized from the shrouding mist directly in front of her, an arrow drawn taught to her bow, aimed precisely at Sango's heart. Though Kirara leapt between her mistress and her would-be assailant quickly, Sango barked at the creature to stand down. Confused, the small creature tentative looked from one woman to the other; the silence as the two stared at one another was tense.

"You," the priestess finally stated, mild surprise registering in her calm voice. Neither her expression nor her aim wavered; Kirara growled warningly.

Sango had skidded to a halt before the other woman, chagrined and surprised that she had happened upon the priestess so recklessly. "Kikyo," Sango replied breathlessly, feeling a rush of relief in spite of herself. She had been looking for Kikyo's shrine, but it seemed Kikyo had found _her_ first.

The priestess's expression remained guarded and suspicious; her raven brows furrowed as she regarded the black-clad demon exterminator, pale brown eyes thoughtful. "You are the taijiya that travels with Inuyasha, are you not?" Kikyo finally queried.

"Hai, I am," the slayer nodded solemnly, forcing herself not to flinch as Kikyo's aim still did not waver from her heart.

The priestess was silent for a while, seemingly contemplating the simple reply; her gaze shifted until she was staring intently at something beneath Sango's slayer uniform. "I see _you_ now carry jewel shards," she stated finally, answering Sango's earlier silent question.

Belatedly, the slayer remembered that the miko, like her reincarnation from the future, had the ability to see the shards of the jewel. Tentatively, the slayer nodded her affirmation, though she knew no such affirmation was necessary. It hadn't been a question, but rather an observation.

'_So that's how she found me first; she probably has sensed the jewel shards coming for a while, just like Kagome would have…_'

Another flush of guilt stabbed at Sango's heart at the thought of her best friend. Kagome had been so good to her, and yet here she was wearing the jewel shards she had stolen from her while she slept, seeking counsel from an icy woman who had once tried to kill her…

Sango had always prided herself in her fierce loyalty, and so this betrayal, no matter how good-intentioned it was, made her stomach churn bitterly.

'_I'm sorry Kagome. I had no other choice,_' she pleaded silently with her absent friend, hoping the young miko could understand and forgive eventually.

Slowly – very slowly – Kikyo's tight grip on the bow slackened. With agonizing deliberateness the dead woman lowered the aim of her weapon, pointing the tip harmless towards the ground; as if in subtle warning, Kikyo kept the arrow notched and at the ready. Sango breathed a tiny sigh of relief.

"What business do you have with me, taijiya?" the priestess before her demanded icily, though there was a hint of bemused curiosity in her voice.

At one time, Sango never would have knelt before this undead apparition of clay, this tragic priestess who had been brought back to life by the very man she despised more than any in this world, this woman who hated Kagome for taking her place in Inuyasha's life. But that time had passed, and so, swallowing her pride, Sango dropped to one knee on the forest floor. She bowed her head and spoke with quiet confidence, though there was a hint of something desperate in her tone.

"Lady Kikyo. I have come to beseech your assistance…" She took a deep breath, and her voice lowered, as if afraid the subject of her visit could be lurking in any shadow – which he very well could be. "… in destroying Naraku."

Kikyo stared incredulously at Sango, the pieces of the puzzle not quite fitting. "Why did you come to me, taijiya? Did you not say that you are a member of Inuyasha's travel party?"

"Hai, priestess. I am," Sango affirmed, ducking her head slightly in shame at the sudden realization that shone in Kikyo's eyes. "Or – I was…"

"You stole the jewels from her, didn't you?" She didn't say which 'her' she was referring to – she didn't have to.

"Hai. I did," the young warrior alleged guiltily, her hand instinctively covering the jewels she now wore around her neck, as if to hide her betrayal.

"Did you believe you could use them against him?" Kikyo asked, her voice dripping with mockery and scorn. "He already has most of the jewel – and if you believe that small collection will make any difference –"

"No. I had no intent to use them as a weapon," Sango interrupted hoarsely. "I intended to use them as bait."

Tense silence filled the air between them once again, but this time the miko looked thoughtfully at her unexpected visitor. Sango could only guess what she was thinking.

"Why did you come to me?" Kikyo finally drawled, expression still unreadable.

"Because I cannot defeat him alone," was her immediate contention.

"You have your comrades."

"Naraku is no fool; you and I both know this. He would never let us near him so long as we posed any threat to him. He is too cunning to allow Inuyasha near him."

"How does this concern me?" Kikyo drawled again, indifference reigning supreme over her composure.

"I cannot do it alone. I know that spiritual powers are needed to defeat him –"

"You have my reincarnation," the priestess retorted bitterly. Anger briefly lit her features but quickly was replaced with that mask of apathy.

"Kagome wouldn't help me." As if in declaration of her guilty feelings for the betrayal, Sango broke the challenging eye contact between them. Her voice dropped low as she concluded, "Not this time."

"And why would I?"

Now, Sango's deep brown eyes swirled with an inner flame as she re-captured the priestess's frothy ones. "Because you are just like me," she whispered earnestly, her voice electric with conviction. "He took everything from you, and then left you to linger just so your suffering might be prolonged."

To her dark pleasure, the words seemed to crack through Kikyo's impenetrable calm. Though she couldn't be entirely sure, Sango thought she saw emotions flickering across the priestess's features from across the shrouding mist. When the woman made no immediate response, the slayer mercilessly drove on.

"He didn't even let you rest in peace; he didn't even have the mercy to leave you dead." Sango's eyes narrowed in bitterness; she paused for a moment to let the impact of her words truly register before dropping her voice even lower. Her finale vibrated with conviction and rage. "Naraku is a monster. And the only way to stop him is to kill him."

Faint traces of emotion were still dancing in her eyes for several moments after the demon exterminator finished. For a few brief moments, the young slayer was certain that she had finally cracked through the dead woman's shell –

But, as always, that aloof cloak that made Kikyo like an observer to the world around her returned. She made a faint hissing sound of distaste and retorted, "And you think _you_ can destroy him?"

Sango bowed her head; the darkest of brunette locks spilled over her shoulders and face from their tight constraint at the top of her head, shrouding her features so that the priestess might not see the tears of desperation and sadness in her eyes. "No, lady Kikyo. I know I cannot, not alone. But I believe that you can…" Sango's voice shrank to a certain if regret filled whisper. "And I will do anything."

Kikyo seemed to digest those words with care; slowly, a new dawning realization shone in her eyes as she came to her own conclusions. "And thus your comrades would not help you in this endeavor."

"I will do _anything_," Sango emphasized by way of reply.

Apparently not one to hold back her cynical observations, the priestess quickly made her snide retort. "Are you so eager to die, slayer?"

Sango's entire aura glittered with livid warning as she glared at the other woman. "My life is not too hefty a price to pay for those that will be saved. If I might be able rip him forever from this world through my forfeited life, I beg of you to help me make it so, priestess. _I beseech you._"

Once again, a tense and uncomfortable silence filled the void between them. The heavy mists wisped, obscuring one from the other as both contemplated the fervored speech.

Another heavy strand of fog drifted lazily by; once it had passed Sango saw the priestess had turned her back begun to pace away. The slayers heart surged with despair as her only chance at defeating Naraku nonchalantly dismissed her–

- until she heard Kikyo's quiet words. "I have something for you within the temple, and then you must go - quickly. You must be far away from here by the time he comes for you."


	5. Gone

Gone

Miroku had slept as soundly and as peacefully as he had in weeks, if not more. Even though he had felt her gently disengage from his possessive embrace some time ago, for most of the night he had been comforted beyond all reason by the warmth of Sango in his arms.

Sango in his arms…

In _his_ arms. Sango. _His_ Sango.

For once, he didn't feel the stab of guilt that usually came with 'those' kinds of thoughts. He had endeared her greatly for some time now; he had coveted her and her special spirit, and yet he had always been unable to _do_ anything about it. He would never dare risk hurting her, especially not after what she had already been though.

He knew his time was drawing to an end. But so did Sango – and she had seemed oddly serene about it. It wasn't necessarily that she had _accepted_ it – but, well, she had _acknowledged_ it. She had _acknowledged_ the dark truth of the situation and then had made it quite clear that it didn't matter; she loved him no matter what.

She had acknowledged what was going to happen, and still she hadn't pulled back from him. She had given him her love in absolute and completely selflessness.

Sango was so brave.

A surge of overwhelming pride and desire rushed through his heart and not for the first time since she had left only a few hours ago, Miroku absently reached to his side, hoping that she had returned without his knowledge.

He wasn't terribly worried; he knew that she could take care of herself. She probably had just had to go and be alone for a short while or something. Or perhaps she had decided to return quietly back to her own futon rather than be so blatant about where she had been in the night…

The corner of his mouth quirked up into an endearing smirk; always so secretive about private things, that Sango! No matter how much she revealed or he discovered it never seemed to even scratch that shroud of mysteriousness about her. Sango was a complex person – a fascinating, complex person.

The fact that she found him fascinating as well was a pleasant surprise. He was but a humble monk with bad habits – he had never expected her to feel taken with him as he was with her. And yet… she did.

'_At least I can die happily…_'

The morning sun peeked through the windows of the hut, gently bathing his face in light and eventually coaxing him to open his violet eyes. Miroku stretched and basked in the morning warmth (although, admittedly, the sunlight wasn't the only thing making him feel a little warm this morning!). He lounged for sometime before deciding that he definitely was feeling well enough to get up and move about. He was just finishing tying his outer robes when it happened…

"_The Jewel Shards!_"

Kagome's shriek of terror put the fire under his feet. In a flash Miroku came sprinting from the hut. Inuyasha leapt to the miko's side from his vantage point in a nearby tree.

"What the hell?" the hanyou spat in a supremely irritated tone.

The young girl ignored him, frantically searching the pockets of her strange clothing and digging through her pack. As he came to a skidding halt before his friend, Miroku vaguely noticed that Sango hadn't come running at Kagome's shout. Something was nagging incessantly at the back of his mind…

Kagome, meanwhile, upon exhausting all possible hiding spots, cried again, "The Jewel Shards! They're gone!"

Something…

The hanyou seemed to take the possibility of the shards beyond stolen right out from under his literal nose as a personal insult and immediately shouted his indignant reply. "What the hell! There's no way something could have gotten into here without any of us noticing! Even if I somehow missed it, Kirara would have heard of smelled something funny!"

In seeking validation from the demon cat, the absence of two members of the party suddenly became uncomfortably apparent.

Inuyasha, never one for adding numbers or filling in the blanks, snapped irritably, "Where the hell are Sango and Kirara?"

Miroku felt the blood drain from his face. The nagging feeling in the back of his mind sprung promptly to life, assaulting his consciousness ruthlessly. Memories, unbidden, rose to the surface of his thoughts, bombarding him with an argument he did not want to hear.

'_I just needed you to know…_' No. Just – no. There must be some mistake… Sango didn't hear Kagome's shout. She would be back any second now. He was just being unduly anxious.

… Bombarding him with a conclusion he did not want to make…

She wouldn't have.

'_If ever there were a way for this to end happily, I would have gladly taken it._'

… Bombarding him with a truth he could not deny…

His heart twisted and squeezed in silent agony as it all became painfully clear. A low groan must have escaped from his lips, for he suddenly became aware of three pairs of eyes boring intently into him. It was Kagome who finally spoke, tentatively, her eyes filled with concern. "Where is Sango-chan, Miroku?"

His mouth was dry and he choked out a single word in response. "Gone." Though the word was ambiguous he knew his woeful gaze told a more detailed narrative…

"What the hell! Then she needs to get back here, we have to go after the Jewel Shards!" Inuyasha, opaque as ever, stomped his agitation.

Judging by the stricken expression on her face, Kagome wasn't nearly as clueless as the hanyou.

It was Miroku who finally managed to speak, his voice withdrawn and sullen. "I don't think… she's coming back."

"What do you mean, _not coming back_?" Inuyasha snarled, his fury quickly turning on the suddenly very distressed looking monk.

"I think… I think she means to challenge Naraku," he whispered numbly, his eyes becoming unfocussed. Horrific scenes flashed through his mind and the true impact of the realization was painfully seeping in. "She is going after him… alone."

"And how the hell would _she_ find him when we haven't been able to all this time?" the hanyou demanded indignantly.

It was Kagome who answered, her eyes and voice as distant and torn as the monks. "She has the Jewel Shards, Inuyasha." A long, pregnant pause stretched as she waited for the hanyou to draw conclusions, as if not finishing the thought might impede her friends impeding doom.

It was Miroku who, unable to bear the awful silence a moment later, mournfully rasped, "He will find her."

'_If ever there were a way for this to end happily, I would have gladly taken it._'

He suddenly felt very, very sick.


	6. Solitude

Solitude

For the second time in the past day Sango saw the earth coming towards her at a dazzling rate of speed. Tears momentarily blurred her vision, but it wasn't entirely from the rushing of wind that whipped long tresses of deep black-brown hair into her eyes.

Kirara hit the ground and took several bounding leaps to absorb the force of impact. They had departed from the deep forest a short time ago, and now they stood in a solitary field far north of where this journey had first began – when Sango had left Kaede's village.

The sun was halfway on its journey from its noon zenith to its twilight slumber; if there had been any trees in the immediate vicinity they would have been casting decent shadows by now. As it were, the tall grasses that swayed lethargically in the gentle wind offered no hiding shadows from the cheery sun.

Sango slid from the back of her beloved demon-companion with a slight sigh as she stared at the looming mountains in the not-so-distant distance. Though there was a small smile on her face there was nothing jovial about it. The firecat, in a puff of flame, returned to her small form so as to mew and paw curiously at her mistress.

Obligingly, Sango lifted the small cat and cradled her in her arms, swaying gently to and fro as she petted the demon lovingly.

Somehow, Kirara was not comforted.

The pair stayed that way for quite some time, simply basking in the sunlight and enjoying the companionable (if slightly uncomfortable) silence. For her part, Sango delicately stroked and scratched the little cat. Finally, she spoke.

"You've been the most faithful and trustworthy of companions, Kirara." Though there was no real way of knowing exactly how much the cat demon could understand, the slayer somehow knew that her long-time friend would understand what she was saying. "You have meant the world to me."

The small cat purred and butted her head against her mistress's face lovingly; a single tear escaped from the corner of one of Sango's eyes.

"And that is why you cannot come with me."

Kirara mewed, the sound seeming to be a mixture of indignance, disbelief, and anger.

"I'm sorry, Kirara. You cannot follow me where I go." Her voice cracked with restrained emotion as she slowly set the cream cat down into the grasses.

Once again the creature mewed forlornly, pawing in askance at the leg of Sango's slayer suit.

"I need you to go back to the others. I need you to take care of them." Another tear slid escaped from her eye, but she quickly scrubbed it away; she couldn't show anything less than steely resolve. Not now.

"You musn't bring them here, either. I need to do something alone, and you or the others cannot interfere. Do you understand? I _must_ do this alone. You must go now." She tried her best to sound stern, and yet still the firecat refused to budge.

Unexpectedly, the slayer wheeled on the small cat, snarling angrily at the creature, "_Go!_" She half-heartedly made to kick at her pet. She knew she couldn't actually do it, but the threat was there; thankfully, the agile demon leapt back, eyes wide and confused with hurt.

Sango's heart broke in two; she wanted nothing more than to apologize profusely, to take the small cat into her arms and cry for being so cruel…

But instead, she repeated the snarling threat. "_Go!_"

This time, the firecat took the hint; in a burst of flame she returned to her large form, and after only a few moments of further hesitation, she leapt into the air and took off, continuing to look back at her mistress in askance as if waiting for Sango to call her back at any moment…

But she didn't. Instead, Sango stood there, back straight, watching her friends retreat with a brave front for as long as she thought the cat could see her.

And the moment she was certain she couldn't, the demon slayer collapsed into the soft grass sobbing for the final goodbye. "I'm so sorry Kirara… I'm so sorry… I know that you would protect me to the death… But I can't let you do this – not this time…" she mumbled thickly, hoping vainly that the firecat would only on the good times when thinking back on her mistress.

'_Like Miroku._'

The unbidden parallel blindsided her for a moment, and all at once a crushing feeling in her chest made it difficult to breath, much less sob.

She had been trying desperately not to think of the monk since the moment she had left; thinking of him overwhelmed her with a feeling of sorrow and loss. Thinking of him only led to an intense desire to see him, to touch him, to stroke his hair…

But she would never be able to do any of those things again. No; she had made her decision. She had left him with the others – she had left him where he would be safely out of the way, safely where he couldn't distract her – and more importantly, safely where he couldn't stop her. She had chosen her path and now she had to walk it.

For all her solid and resolute words of stone, her heart still clenched painfully at the reminder that she would never again see Miroku – or _any_ of her friends. She had betrayed them, she had abandoned them, and she would never even get a chance to explain herself – she would never get a chance to plead for their forgiveness.

'_If ever there were a way…_' she pleaded silently with her guilt-ridden heart. '_But there is no other way; you know this. And they will too, someday.'_

Yes; she had chosen her path, and now she _would_ walk it.

Shoving all thoughts of Miroku and the others resolutely aside, Sango forced herself back to her feet, forcing one foot in front of the other. '_The further you go the sooner this can end._'


	7. Pact

Pact

"HIR –" Swirling, living darkness, everywhere…

"AI –" Permeated only by flashes of speed-obscured claws and teeth…

"KOT –" Even as her swing connected with flesh, it didn't seem to even begin to stave off their ranks…

"SU!" She was surrounded by an army of demons, and there was no escaping the whirlwind of scale and hide and all things unnatural that engulfed her…

It was, perhaps, the most terrifying and unnatural thing she had ever witnessed in her life. She had barely had any warning before they had been upon her; one moment, she had been entirely alone, frozen as she heard a distant but ominous rumbling like thunder – the next, the very sun had been blacked out from the sky.

For the first time in her entire life, Sango was battling completely alone. Without Kirara to guard her back, and without any trees close enough to put her back to, she was only too aware of her vulnerability.

Vaguely, she was aware of the fact that they were only taunting her. Though she felt her skin being raked by the occasional claw, she logically knew that she should have been dead the moment they had descended. Even so, the imminent assault left her battling instinctively for her life.

Demons materialized from the whirling vortex and came at her individually; repeatedly, Sango felt herself being bodily slammed into the ground time and again. Most of the blows she didn't even see coming – one moment she was trying to battle with one demon in front of her, the next she was struggling frantically to get her feet back under her…

Her mouth was filled with the coppery taste of blood and every muscle in her body seemed to scream its protest, yet still she struggled to fight her innumerable opponents…

'_Not like this! Not now!_'

Again, she slammed face first into the dirt; from the corner of her eyes she could see the shadow that had engulfed her dissipating as quickly as it had come upon her. Even as she saw it happening she realized something greater was coming into play – something wasn't quite right…

"Sango. It has been some time," a bemused voice greeted silkily from directly in front of her.

Slowly – very slowly – she looked up from her prone position in the dirt, and she found herself looking at a pair of feet barely an arm's length away. "Too long, Naraku!" she spat angrily in reply, leaping to her feet with renewed energy; the slayer crouched, hiraikotsu poised at the ready behind her.

The young lord merely chuckled in amusement. "Imagine my surprise, finding you here all alone, slayer. Everyone knows your kind is useless except in packs."

Sango bristled, a cold rage stirring deep within her, but she refused to let him play her so easily. It took all her will to keep from leaping at him in that very heartbeat… She wanted nothing more than to rip his heart from his body with her bare hands…

Instead, she spoke very carefully. "And still you refuse to face me alone until after the demons have driven me into the ground? Even though I am but one _useless_ slayer?"

Naraku chuckled darkly. "I was merely letting my minions toy with you until I could get here myself, taijiya." His mahogany eyes were filled with glee. "Surely you didn't think you staved them off yourself?"

'_His minions…_' Slowly, the true impact of his words sank in; cold realization drained the color from her face… '_Dear gods…_'

'_When did he become this powerful?_'

The insight was like a blow to the gut; whether it was from the shock or from the injuries she had sustained, Sango suddenly felt nauseous…

The arrogant lord was already continuing. "And to believe, I was certain it was a trap! But if it is, I think you should know your friends left you for dead beneath that wave of foes."

"There is no one here but me, Naraku!" Sango snarled angrily, her dark eyes glittering dangerously at her much-loathed enemy.

"Then you are a fool, taijiya. I grow weary of this conversation, however; now, I believe, I will take what I came for…"

The slayer leapt back from the sudden tendril that shot without warning from Naraku's extended hand. She managed to avoid being impaled by the root-like projection by mere inches; while still in the air, another whirred through the air at her – with a heavy arc of the hiraikotsu both extensions were severed.

Sango landed lithely on the ground and dropped into an immediate crouch, clutching her boomerang-bone and raising it in warning behind her back. "I wish to make a deal."

The words made her stomach churn. To make a deal with this _unforgivable monster_ was unfathomable to her; and yet, she had to…

"Why would I make a deal with you when I can simply take what I want?" Naraku asked, his mahogany eyes narrowing in suspicion.

"You can try to take them from me, but I won't hesitate to jam the shards into my chest – and then, I imagine, I won't be so easy to kill," the slayer hissed in warning, hiraikotsu still held at the ready.

The demon frowned. "You were sworn to protect the jewel – you would never dare do such a thing," he concluded with his usual arrogant certainty.

Sango smiled, but the expression was lacking both mirth and sanity. "Thanks to you, my oaths mean nothing now. I have nothing left to lose, Naraku. Nothing."

"Why would I trust you, then?"

The taijiya took a deep breath.

'_Speak only the truth – Naraku is the personification of dishonesty and lies. He will smell them upon you_,' Kikyo's voice echoed warningly through her memories. What had been less than two days ago seemed like ages ago – she had been alive then, but now she was about to complete the betrayal, she knew she was already dead.

'_Make it count, Sango_,' she coached herself silently.

"You took everything from me – I am the walking dead, neither part of this world nor the next. The days blend into one another, no more purpose left. I have no reason left for which to wake up in the morning… Save for one…" Her voice dropped to a hoarse whisper; the tears in her eyes were not faked. "Kohaku."

Now, she met the eyes of her hated-enemy – the demon who had killed her entire family. The demon who had destroyed everything she had held dear; the demon who had taken her life. Her eyes seethed with hatred, and yet still pleading managed to find its way into her voice – and for that, she hated _herself_. "I wish to be with my brother. That is all I wish."

"To let a viper into my nest?" Naraku retorted coolly. "You still wish me dead; you cannot deceive me."

"You _know_ I cannot kill you!" Her voice cracked as she shouted her angry accusation; her entire body shook with uncontainable loathing at finally having to admit the truth.

Sango couldn't kill Naraku. She might be able to combat him, to hurt him – but she did not have the power to _kill_ him.

It was a bitter irony, really; that no matter what, she did not possess the spiritual powers necessary to scourge him from the world; that no matter what, she could never do the one thing that would validate her existence.

Naraku smiled.

Sango wanted nothing more than to dig her itching fingers into his flesh and tear that smile – and everything else – from his body, and she didn't hide it. She wore her hatred for him like a cape flagging in the wind.

'_You cannot hide your burning desire to destroy him,_' Kikyo had warned. '_Use it. If you try to hide it he will know your lie. Use it, taijiya! Use the truth to weave your deception._'

"So let us make a pact. Take me to my brother and I will give you the shards," Sango hissed through clenched teeth. "I am ready for this to end."

Naraku seemed only too pleased to oblige. With a flippant wave of his hand, she saw the shimmering of his falling shield, revealing his great castle in the distance…

_I wish I had a reason  
My flaws are open season  
For this I gave up trying  
One good time deserves my dying_


	8. Cut Asunder

Cut Asunder

For a few moments his eyes flickered with recognition. "Aneue –" he whispered, reaching for her –

Their fingers touched –

And then, the unthinkable happened.

The shard abruptly burst from Kohaku's back; blood splurted, staining the walls and floor of the dark hut as the boy collapsed towards the floor, the borrowed life he had been granted fleeing instantly from his body the moment the life giving gem was stricken from his body.

She heard a scream rip from her too-tight throat as he collapsed; she slammed to her knees, catching his young body into her arms and hugging it tightly to her, but there was nothing left, not even a reminiscent last few sluggish beats of his heart.

That which had begun so long ago was over, just like that. Naraku had finally released Kohaku from his reanimated slavery, but he hadn't done it out of regret or a desire to do right –

No; he had done it to keep her from attaining that single comfort left in the world for her.

"NO!" she screamed in anguish, hugging her dead brother tightly to her own bloody and torn body. "NO!"

Just a few moments – she had only needed a few moments to tell him that she loved him, to tell him that she would meet him on the other side shortly. Just a few moments.

He had stolen her life, and he wouldn't give her a even few meager moments in return.

Gingerly, the slayer released the now-empty shell that had only moments ago held the life force of her brother. She stared at his sweet, waxen face, and her heart twisted painfully within her chest.

"NARAKU!" she screamed hoarsely, leaping to her feet and bursting from the hut. "NARAKU!"

She skidded to a halt directly before him; his boldness surprised her. He wasn't even bothering to hide. Instead, he stood there, not more than two man-lengths before her…

"I hope you can forgive me – I needed this," he spoke with silken mocking. In one hand he held the shard that he had taken from Kohaku –

In the other, he held the Shikon Jewel, complete except for that one, final shard…

"The war is over, and I am victorious thanks to you! You brought me the final shards - how does it feel, taijiya? How does it feel to be the one to deliver the killing blow to everything you hold dear? Your friends will die effortlessly now that I possess the Shikon Jewel!"

Sango narrowed her eyes; her jaw was clenched so tightly she was afraid she might split a tooth. She watched as slowly, carefully, Naraku pressed the final shard into place…

The jewel sparkled beautifully for a few moments, and then abruptly turned pitch black in his hands. Naraku threw his head back with maniacal laughter as power radiated from the jewel, the wave-like pulses crackling like lightning. Sango waited –

'_These are fake shards. They're close enough to the real thing to fool him. There are enough here to complete the jewel – but only with the addition of your brother's._' Kikyo had looked at her with something akin to sympathy in her eyes. '_Your brother will die without his shard, but there is no other way._'

'_I know,_' Sango had whispered hoarsely.

She waited for something to happen to indicate that the shards had been fake, but nothing did; Naraku absorbed the dark jewel into his chest and continued to laugh gaily as he burst from his human form to his demon form; the power crackled visibly through is countless tendrils. Cold fear clenched her gut.

'_She – she betrayed me._'

No; this couldn't be happening. Could Kikyo really have given her _real_ shards to give Naraku?

More importantly: had Sango truly just handed over the final shards to him?

'_No… This can't be happening…_' All blood drained from her face as she realized that Naraku's words were true. She had just assured his victory. With the Jewel in his possession, Naraku would effortlessly murder her friends.

She couldn't let that happen.

"NO!" Sango screamed, tearing coursing down her cheeks as she charged Naraku.

Power-charged tendrils whipped angrily at her from all directions. She couldn't even begin to block them; they burned her as they lashed through her defenses, but still she didn't stop.

Her skin, already laced with stinging lashes and wounds from earlier, was ripped and torn angrily by Naraku's protrusions, but she lashed angrily with hiraikotsu. She flung her boomerang bone at the great demon but he effortlessly batted the weapon aside at the last instant, sending it skidding across the cobblestone and out of her reach.

But Sango wasn't paying attention to her beloved hiraikutso; while Naraku irritably batted aside the weapon, the slayer drove through the path the boomerang bone had cut through his defenses, her katana drawn and raised –

"FOR THE TAIJIYA!" she shrieked, the short sword a silver blur through the air as she descended; when Naraku turned, he found himself face to face with the foe he had underestimated for all these years…

Suddenly, she couldn't breath; her entire existence was white-hot pain, but she ignored the liquid fire coursing through her veins. She slammed the blade down with everything she had; the sheer force of the impact drove the katana straight through his collarbone. The sword didn't stop it's descent until it reached his chest – she had sliced right through him.

Abruptly, she became aware of the fact that she was no longer falling. Slowly, she looked down to see one of the root-like tendrils protruding straight through her chest -

She had to die so that the others might live.

Naraku slowly looked down at his own chest, but to her horror he only laughed at the katana buried deep within. "You said yourself you could not kill me, you fool!"

He laughed.

Tears streamed down her face as she tried to twist the blade in his body.

Another tendril slammed through her, this one ripping through her flank as he continued to hold her suspended in the air before him. She tried to draw the breath to scream but instead only choked on blood.

He continued to laugh.

She had failed; she had betrayed her friends and had given Naraku everything he needed to succeed. Instead of placing her trust in those people who had given her a home even when she had done nothing to deserve it, she had placed it in a woman she never should have…

And now, she would die a traitor to those she loved, and an ally to the man she despised more than anything. Her soul would die for her deceit – or, if it weren't to die, it would be forced to wander forever as a haunt on the earth, forced to witness the fruits of her treachery for all of eternity – forced to watch Naraku torture those she loved to death.

All was lost.

Everything was going a little dark, but even so, her trained hunter's eyes easily picked out the subtle movement behind Naraku. Her dark eyes flickered uncertainly, trying hard to focus on the red and white movement –

Her heart swelled with overwhelming joy. The demon holding her paused, his eyes flashing with anger and confusion as his dying victim laughed breathlessly.

"What do you find so amusing?" he snarled angrily, feeling suddenly very threatened by the unpredicted behavior.

Sango's reply was grab his face dig her fingernails into the flesh, confusing him even more. It never occurred to him that she was doing it to keep him from looking behind him…

And so he literally and figuratively never saw what hit him.

"She didn't betray me," Sango breathed – his eyes widened, but it was too late.

_You don't need to bother  
I don't need to be  
I'll keep slipping farther  
But once I hold on  
I won't let go 'till it bleeds_

Kikyo's purifying arrow slammed into his chest; he cried out, and Sango sunk her nails deeper into his face, holding him in place as she fired another…

And then, something strange happened.

A bright white light shone and burned from Naraku's chest. Sango watched with wide, fearful eyes as the jewel revealed itself –

The Jewel of Four Souls swirled and brightened for a few moments, but then, suddenly, several of the shards turned dark. All at once, the jewel exploded within his chest – the half of the jewel that contained the dark shards pulsated and broke off from the rest, bursting into individual shards and shooting out from his body.

It was grotesque. Naraku raised his head to scream as shards burst from him and went flying through the air, similar to the way Kagome had described happening when she had broken the jewel so many years ago – only this time, only half of the jewel burst.

The half that had contained fake pieces.

Naraku screamed as Kikyo fired another purifying arrow into his body and shards continued to rip from him; his entire body spasmed, sending Sango flying from him. She slammed into the cobblestone roughly, leaving a bloody trail behind her until she finally skidded to a halt. It was all she could do to turn her head and watch as Naraku's body was completely and irrevocably shredded…

And abruptly, it was over; his body literally disintegrated into nothing, leaving the priestess and demon slayer alike stare numbly at the half of the Shikon Jewel that stood where he had been only a moment before.

Kikyo swooped down and picked up the jewel, her hand clenched white around it. "It is done," she announced with quiet coolness.


	9. Linger

Linger

It didn't happen the way she had heard in all those glorious tales.

The battle was over; she was victorious. It was done. In the stories, she would have died the instant her foe had. Confident in having accomplished her goal, she would have let her spirit leave this world in triumph, heralded in the glory of the moment instead of allowing her grievous injuries to slowly slip her from this world. She would have died the moment the battle was won.

But she didn't.

Sango lingered; it was instinct that drove her to clutch hands already slippery with blood over her gaping wounds, trying in desperate futility to keep her innards from slipping out. The pool of blood she lay in was ever growing, and yet still she lingered.

A growing coldness spread throughout her body, beginning sluggishly in her fingers and toes and yet steadily growing to claim her limbs. And yet still she lingered.

Kikyo left her lying there. The miko had left without a word, though the distant screams made it apparent enough what she was doing. The priestess had taken it upon herself to search the castle and rid it of any errant minions left behind. Eventually the screams became fewer, with longer periods of silence left between, and it became apparent that all followers of Naraku would soon be scourged from the world.

It might have been hours or days later by the time the miko returned to her; Sango really didn't know. She slipped in and out of consciousness too often to keep track of the passing of time. All that she knew was that one moment she was alone, and the next the other woman was standing over her, her dark eyes carefully guarded. The serene priestess frowned slightly, looking confused.

"Why do you linger, taijiya?" she asked finally. "Your wish has been granted; Naraku is dead. His soul is destroyed."

Sango wondered if Kikyo would understand if she explained that every time she closed her eyes, it was to imagine she was once again staring into a pair of beautiful violet ones. She wondered if Kikyo would believe her if she explained how ever time she was certain she was slipping into the nether darkness, gentle, laughter filled voice would always beckon her back. She wondered if the dead woman could believe a poignant desire to merely see a man's right hand bare, uncovered with brace and armguard and rosary beads, was so great that it was worth lingering in agony just for the chance.

A fond, gentle smile curved at the corners of her blood-covered lips, but she decided against saying this.

There was more to it, anyway.

"I will not die for Naraku," she whispered instead, taking great care not to choke on her own blood. "To die simply because he is gone – is to base my death on him. He took my life. Not my death. He cannot have my death."

"Such a warrior – you would fight death itself," Kikyo murmured, her cool expression never faltering. And yet… there seemed to be a certain flicker of understanding in her pale brown eyes.

Before Sango could wonder on it, however, the priestess abruptly leaned down and shoved the half of the Shikon Jewel into her bloody hands. "I have business to attend to," she spoke softly, and then was gone, leaving Sango to her secret musings.


	10. Enlighten

Enlighten

They had known something was wrong the moment Kirara had returned to them. The little cat had mewed and yowled with pathetic sadness for the past day; none of them had been able to convince it to take them back to where it had come from, which had left them all with a terrible sense of forboding.

Something was terribly, terribly wrong.

The thought of Sango being out there, somewhere, without even Kirara to help her made him literally sick with worry. His stomach churned and churned, refusing to still ever since she had left.

The wind whipped through his hair, and the sun was bright and cheery, mocking his internal strife. He rode Kirara with Shippo and Kagome, and the fact that it was the young miko and not his beloved taijiya felt like a particularly cruel reminder of the situation. Inuyasha scouted below them, leaping to and fro and sniffing desperately for any signs of Sango, though they all knew it was probably futile. Only Kirara knew where she had taken Sango, and Kirara wasn't about to show them.

And so, Miroku was left to his dire thoughts…

'_She is doing this for me… She is going to throw her life away for _me'

It seemed like a particularly cruel twist of fate; it was like a blade in his heart. He wanted desperately to be angry at her…

Who was she to decide to throw away her life for him? Who said he wanted her to? He didn't want her to. He would much rather die knowing she was safe than to live after she was gone. To live knowing that his life had been bought with _her blood_…

'_Damnit!_' he thought angrily, but the seething anger quickly drained from him.

He knew, realistically, that she had made the same decision he would have in her position. He knew that she must have had the same thoughts he did now – that she had faced the possibility of his death, and had chosen to combat it in the only way he knew how…

But that didn't stop him from wanting to shake her, scream at her, slap her, _anything_ to retrospectively convince her not to do this…

And yet there was nothing he could do now. Nothing; absolutely nothing. For the second time in his life, he could do nothing but stand helplessly back as someone he loved was taken from him by Naraku. The first had been his father, whose death had given him his curse; and now, his love, who with her death hoped to take it away…

Abruptly, Inuyasha froze, his nose in midair as his sniffed frantically. "_Naraku!_" he shouted excitedly. "The air is _filled_ with his stench – it's distant – but I think I can follow it!"

"Then _do it!_" he heard Kagome, Shippo, and himself shout in near unison. The hanyou was prompt to comply, and soon they were zipping through the forest after him. Miroku was so intent on looking for any signs of Sango that he didn't notice the odd sensation in his right hand…

"I smell her!" Inuyasha shouted suddenly. "I smell –" He paused, his brow furrowing as he sniffed the breeze frantically, as if something was near…

That was all the monk needed.

"_Down, Kirara!_" he shouted at the firecat. A mixture of apprehension, fear, and excitement battled for supremacy in his heart – from the way Inuyasha was frantically sniffing about, she _had_ to be nearby…

Kirara slammed into the ground; Miroku, who had already been in the process of dismounting, went rolling roughly across the forest floor. As soon as he had come to a half, he heard something rustling through the brush just beyond him…

Miroku loosened the rosary beads from his wind tunnel – and it was then that he suddenly noticed that something wasn't quite right…

"What the hell?" Inuyasha shouted from ahead, bounding back towards them. "We don't have time for your crap!"

Miroku ignored him; instead, he stared, fixated at his hand. Slowly, and very carefully, he pulled the rosary off…

And nothing happened.

The Wind Tunnel was gone.

Naraku was dead.

The one thing he had set about to accomplish in his lifetime was over. The enemy who had cut short his father and grandfather's lives had been destroyed. He was free. He had been granted his life.

So why did he feel like emptying the contents of his stomach across the forest floor?

Abruptly, Inuyasha started sniffing the air like crazy; the gentle rustling in the brush started up again, and then, a calm voice spoke from the shadows…

"Indeed, Naraku is dead."

The priestess Kikyo materialized from the darkness like a creature of shadows herself. Miroku felt himself tensing at the calm priestess's sudden appearance before him.

Kikyo had always been a wildcard, an oddity, an incomprehensible and unreadable player in this game for the jewel. From the very moment she had been brought back from the dead and proceeded to kill the woman who had brought her back, Kikyo had been a mystery. None of them could imagine what she was thinking when one moment she showed up just at precisely the right moment to save them, and in the next aided Naraku.

One thing wasn't a mystery, however: whenever undead miko was around, things always seemed to go to hell.

The priestess looked with icy calm from one member of their party to the next until finally, she fixated upon him. Miroku gulped and took an involuntary step back from her calculating gaze…

Inuyasha was sniffing wildly; suddenly, the hanyou started to growl. "Why the _hell_ do I smell Sango's blood on you, Kikyo?"

The blood drained from his face; the miko, still staring intently at him, curled her lips in a way akin to a grim smile.

"Because she bleeds, Inuyasha," she replied calmly, as if it were the most obvious answer in the world.

Inuyasha growled again; Kagome made a little cry of horror; Shippo whimpered. And Miroku –

Miroku couldn't stop himself.

He had never been a violent man. Nay; Miroku was a good monk. He had studied the timeless art of meditation, and he had learned the art of zen and patience. When given a choice, he would much rather smooth talk his way through a situation than use any sort of physical force. He detested violence.

But the cool, almost smug way in which she had spoken that – it filled him with rage in a way that he could never have comprehended before that moment. And so, in one breath he was several steps away from the cold woman –

And in the next he had grabbed her hakori within both his fists. The priestess looked down calmly at his restraining hands, and the faint flicker of amusement in her eyes only served to fuel his fire.

"What the _hell_ do you mean? Where the hell is she? _Tell me!_" He shook her roughly for emphasis.

"I mean exactly what I say: she bleeds. The stared her own death in the face without flinching; she gave me the chance I needed, and she never faltered even until the very end."

He didn't know how to interpret her: Kikyo was as cold as the clay which she was composed of. And yet…

And yet he could have sworn he heard something behind the words. Though as ever she wore her wicked mask of cool detachment there was something very real flickering behind it. It was in her eyes, and it was in her voice.

Kikyo was proud of Sango.

He couldn't hold it back; he tried fiercely to, but he couldn't. First it was only one tear, but then others followed, and soon he felt the hot wetness burning his cheeks…

Miroku released the priestess as if she were poison; he took a stumbling step back from her, putting up one hand as if to ward off any further words. He was unable to accept what she was saying – he was _unwilling_ to accept.

He couldn't take anymore.

But she continued. "Even when she thought all was lost, she fought. Even when she _knew_ all was lost, she fought. That was what Naraku never could have guessed, never could have understood: he could not break her, no matter what he did."

"_No_," Miroku moaned, trying to block the cruel words, the cruel images, the cruel realization – but Kikyo drove on, her eyes boring into him…

"A warriors spirit. A spirit so strong that she would challenge destiny. A spirit so strong that ever will she fight it."

'_Ever… will…?_'

She undoubtedly recognized the glint of hope in his eyes; though her face remained stoic, her eyes seemed to smile sadly. "She fights even death."

"I believe she lingers for you, monk. I see something in her eyes that I once shared in my own." There was a serene melancholy to the insight, but she didn't continue. Instead, she extended a single finger and pointed towards the distance.

She didn't say anything; she didn't need to.

Everything after that was a blur.

**No: it's not finished yet. And, well… I have two possible endings in mind. Which one I go with will depend on what my reviewers want. How soon I get up more depends on how soon I get some more reviews! So, review, review… And, feel free to email me at in addition to reviewing, if you feel particularly moved to beg me. I would _love_ to hear from you!**

**Thank you _so much_ to Amalie and Darkwind-warrior – I was feeling really burned out and your reviews meant a lot to me!**


	11. Fades Away

**Thank you so much to my reviewers – you guys have kept me going, for real! Sorry it's taken me a while. School got away with me for a while… But I'm back, and here's another chapter. The final chapter? You decide!**

Fades Away

The silence was deafening. It roared and rang in her ears, distracting from how very alone she truly was.

What bitter irony, that she, a slayer, should die alone. Slayers hunted in packs; even after she had lost her entire village, she had soon met the others and joined their party. She had never truly understood what it meant to die alone. Now she did.

And even as the echoing loneliness reverberated through her soul, she couldn't help but to jadedly berate herself. She had charged into this, her battle cry that of a woman with nothing left to lose – and that is exactly what she had been. And yet now, lying here, slowly losing consciousness to the world, she realized that dying wasn't as easy as she had thought it would be.

She had saved Miroku, she had saved Inuyasha and Kagome and Kirara. She had avenged her family, and she had freed Kohaku. It seemed unduly malicious twist of the sword that now – now that she had accomplished that goal that would have allowed her to finally _live_ after all these years - that it was all drawing to a close.

In her mind she had known that she couldn't fight Naraku and live. She had known, in theory, that this mission would be her last. Her life had been the price asked, and it had been a price she had willingly paid.

Kikyo was right: it was over.

She had no right to linger.

No… linger wasn't really the right word. Linger inspired thoughts of lounging, of languid indifference. There was nothing languid or indifferent about it.

Sango didn't linger: she fought.

She couldn't slip quietly into that eternal darkness that threatened to claim her. To do so would go against everything she believed; it would go everything she _was_. She was a warrior, from the moment she had been born until the moment she died. It was a losing battle, a battle she knew she couldn't win, but she fought anyway. She fought with everything she had, with every last slipping trace of energy.

It was who she was.

The world was beginning to grow shadowed, but it wasn't from the setting sun. Every passing moment it became harder to see; it had long ago become impossible to focus. Her eyes were becoming veiled, but it didn't really matter so much. There was nothing in this empty, cursed castle that she wanted to see, anyway.

Every breath was getting harder to take. It was as if her chest were constricted. Her breathing had become shallow and rapid, difficult and pained.

At first she had been certain that she would die shortly. Every moment her life force pumped steadily from her grievous wounds; the pain alone should have stolen away her life. And yet as she lingered, fighting the impending doom, the sharp throbbing had dulled to a more bearable all-consuming ache, which in turn had faded to a numb coldness. The borrowed moments had slipped into minutes, and minutes into hours and tentatively she had lulled herself the false hope that she might live long enough to be reunited with her friends, if only for a short time.

Somehow, she couldn't help but to entertain the notion that perhaps it would be easier to let go if only she were given the chance to say goodbye to the one person who wouldn't leave her thoughts…

As her vision became shrouded, however, she realized that she wouldn't be able to stave off her looming death for much longer…

'_Forgive me,_' her very soul chanted with each sluggish heartbeat. '_Forgive me. I don't believe I will see you again after all…_'

P O V

Even Inuyasha knew it could mean nothing good when they found Naraku's castle, unshielded and unshrouded, silent and deserted, exactly in the direction Kikyo had pointed to.

The place reeked of blood. The coppery scent of slain youkai was so thick that he almost missed another fragrance that wafted and mingled with the others in the breeze.

Almost.

But then he sniffed a little more carefully, and sure enough the wind paid clear testament to what the undead miko had told them.

Sango bled. A lot.

"Where Inuyasha?" Kagome demanded impatiently, her eyes bright with worry. Shippo clung to her chest, silent with a lack of anything to say for once. Miroku, meanwhile, stood slightly behind the miko, his own eyes filled with silent pleading as they darted to and fro. He gulped and breathed deeply, obviously fighting off overwhelming emotions.

Inuyasha wasn't the most sensitive person in the world. He knew that. Kagome certainly told him often enough. But even insensitive as he was, the hanyou still hesitated.

But he knew that had their positions been switched, he would never have forgiven Miroku had he kept him from Kagome's side, even if only for a moment, had it been she who bled. And so, the hanyou averted his eyes guiltily and extended a single claw.

He didn't know what exactly to say. Thankfully, the monk was gone before he had the chance to verbalize just what he smelled…

P O V

"Sango." In but a single word a hundred warring emotions battled for supremacy. It was breathed in shock and horror, in recoil and anguish. She must have been quite a grotesque sight by now, lying pale in a startling pool of scarlet blood, sweat mussed and impaled, blurry eyed and weak.

She couldn't focus on him. He was just a blur of comforting colors before her, but memory easily filled in the blanks where vision failed. Even if he hadn't said a word she would have known it was him; his aura enveloped her in comforting warmness, making her want to cry for the sheer relief she felt at having him near.

"I was hoping you'd come," she choked, managing a weak smile. The words echoed those he had greeted her with only two nights before, the words that he had welcomed her with when last she had come to bid him shrouded farewell. It seemed only fitting that she should return the same greeting to him, now, as she bid a not-so-shrouded farewell.

"Sango..." His voice was shaking uncontrollably with suppressed tears. "Save your strength, Sango… Please…" With a stifled sob, he gently – oh so gently – wrapped his arms around her, holding her in a feather-light and yet passionate all the same embrace. Her insides, though wrought in torment, still fluttered with wild abandon at his touch, and still clenched with excitement as she realized his face was so near to her own.

"Was saving my strength… hoping you'd come…" Her words were slow and breathy. Time was stealing her breaths away as the moments slipped by, and so she hurried on.

"Thought it might make it easier… to say goodbye…" Now, true sorrow and heartache crept into her voice; a single tear trailed lazily down her cheek. "But it doesn't."

"Then don't!" Miroku cried urgently, desperately, pleadingly. "Don't leave me, Sango! I have nothing without you! Nothing!" This time, the sob wasn't so stifled. "I love you, Sango! I _love you_!"

"And I you, Miroku…" With trembling fingers she reached to tenderly stroke his cheek, making sure he was real, making sure her mind wasn't playing some final cruel trick on her.

The gesture left a trail of blood across his cheek, staining even the fleeting innocence of the moment. Before she could remove the offending hand, Miroku caught it in one of his and held it tightly, warmly, fervently against his face. With gentle fingers he eagerly rubbed the back of her icy hand, as if the ministrations might coax more life into fallen taijiya.

With the gentle fingers… of his right hand. A right hand uncovered by rosary beads. A right hand with no wind tunnel. A right hand uncursed.

A normal right hand.

Sango smiled contentedly. Weakly, she reached to stroke the fruit of her efforts, that hand that had both pushed her away and drawn her closer at the same time since they had met so long ago. In that moment, she knew with all her heart that it had been worth it.

"It was my life for yours, Houshi-sama… A price I gladly paid…"

He hugged her warmly against himself; she felt his tears on her fingers, still pressed tightly to his cheek.

P O V

Her skin felt so cold to him; with careful desperateness the monk clutched the fallen slayer in his arms, trying to warm her. He couldn't stop his tears; he didn't even try. He tried to murmur comforting words, he tried to convey how much he loved her – he tried to distract her, as if he might get her to forget her grievous wounds…

He felt her going lax in his arms. When he loosened his grip on her hand it slipped gently from his face, falling limply to her side.

His heart hurt more badly than he ever could have imagined was possible.

He hugged her a little more tightly to himself, ignoring as her blood covered him. "Sango – Sango! Concentrate!" More desperately, "Sango – don't leave me!"

But her eyes were already blurry and distant, fixated on some distant point he couldn't see. When she spoke it was so soft he needed to place his ear right to her lips to hear.

"I think – I think I see Kohaku."

"Sango – please – you can't leave me like this!" he pleaded, knowing full well how futile and childish his begging was. He didn't care. He shook her gently, stroking her cheek desperately. "Not like this!"

"If ever… there were a way…"

He didn't hear Kagome's horrified cry, Shippo's sorrowful little sob, or Kirara's heart-broken mew. He didn't even notice them. He didn't notice anything but the slackening taijiya he embrace protectively in his arms.

"If ever…"

Her eyes closed, and Sango was still.

Miroku pressed his lips desperately, repeatedly against her cool face. He pressed his lips roughly and fervently against her cheeks, her lips, her forehead – he kissed away the tear marks on her beautiful face. A low, broken moan escaped from his lips, but it wasn't enough.

Miroku clutched her tightly to his chest and screamed, a wordless sound bourn of naught but swirling torment, anguish, and defeat.

Naraku had won after all.

**The End?**

**Oh my. What do you think? What, you don't think that should be the end? Well, I think a dozen or so reviews (and emails, perhaps? ) might "persuade" me to write an itsy bit more… grins and winks**


	12. Transcends

Transcends

He screamed until he had no voice. He screamed, hoping it would take away the bitter pain in his heart, but all it did was take away his energy to give substance to the all-consuming grief threatening rending his heart in two. And even after his vocal cords refused to take further punishment, small moans paid testament to the sobs wreaking his shoulders.

It wasn't supposed to end this way.

It was never supposed to end this way.

It wasn't happening.

It couldn't be happening.

He waited for her to wake up. At any moment, he _knew_ that she was going to open her eyes and cough. She was a fighter – oh gods, how he loved her fighting spirit! Sango… his precious Sango, his beloved Sango – would never give up. Never.

Some part of him wished he could – some logical part _knew_ that the sooner he could accept, the sooner the healing process could begin. He knew that life was a cycle, complete with a birth, a life, a death, and – in the afterlife – a rebirth. He knew that he was but one man, and that he had no control over the cycle…

But none of that mattered. None of it even was in the forefront of his mind. He didn't _care_ about the damned cycle of life. He didn't _care_ that death was a natural part of life. He didn't care about any of it.

All that he cared about was the precious young woman he held in his arms. All he cared about was his Sango.

He pressed his lips to her cooling forehead, murmuring passionately into her clamming skin. "Wake _up_ Sango!" He clutched her still form in a bruising grip; he shook her. "Wake _up_!"

He was vaguely aware of Kagome taking a shocked step back from him. Undoubtedly she thought him mad; indeed, there was probably a fervent glint in his eye that paid testament to such – but he wasn't mad. They didn't know her like he did. They didn't know his Sango; _he_ knew that she would never give up, even if the others didn't.

The moments slipped by, and still she did not stir.

"Miroku –" Kagome spoke uncertainly.

She had been buried once before in her life – placed prematurely in her grave. He wouldn't let it happen again. Instead, he clutched her even more tightly to his chest, as if defending some precious morsel from rabid wolves. He looked up at Kagome grudgingly, his eyes over bright and his posture defensive. "_No_," he hissed. "Just give her a _chance_, Kagome!"

The miko's eyes shone brightly with tears of her own. "She's gone, Miroku."

He closed his eyes and curled over Sango's body, trying desperately to hum over the miko –trying desperately to not to hear her words. Trying desperately to not _believe_ her words.

And there they were – frozen in silent stalemate. It stretched for what felt like a horrible eternity though in reality barely a few scant moments passed. Kagome was speaking but her words were nothing but a dribble of random sounds to him; he wasn't listening. He couldn't listen and maintain what few dignified shreds were left of his sanity.

He fixated on the ground, instead, for once in his life shutting out all reason and logic. For once in his life, he allowed himself to scorn so called 'truth' and 'sense'.

What irony, then, that logic was returned to him by one member of their party for whom he would be unable to return the favor…

The tiny cat approached her mistress tentatively. Miroku probably wouldn't have even noticed the demon's approach if it weren't for the fact that he had fixated on the ground. As it were, he blinked as he noticed Kirara's hesitant stride…

Perhaps the familiar felt guilty for having left her mistress alone. But alas, what was done was done – Kirara had done her misstress's bidding, and now, they were united once again. She was ready to forgive the harsh tone, and hoped that her mistress was ready to accept her back again… As true and affectionate as any pet, the fire-cat butted her soft head against her mistress's hand. And then, she waited.

She waited for Sango to do as she always did. She waited for the slayer to pick up her beloved companion. To coddle and stroke the fire-cat. To play and laugh and smile… She waited for her beloved mistress to make things right again. Kirara had missed her human keeper very dearly these past days, and now that they were reunited, the firecat simply couldn't seem to understand why there was no joyous reunion.

Kirara waited, her head tilted quizzically to one side, waiting for her mistress's response. But when the moments slipped by and the cold hand did not stir, Kirara mewed and butted again, hopefully.

Miroku wondered, not for the first time, how intelligent the cat-demon was. What could be going through her thoughts? Was she on a more superficial level, wondering if perhaps her mistress was still angry with her?

Was she wondering if the scent of her mistress's blood in the air was her fault? Perhaps if she had stayed with her…

Or perhaps, just like Miroku, she was certain that her faithful persistence would coax the taijiya back to life.

He didn't even realizing he was echoing Kagome's words until after they left his mouth… "She's gone, Kirara." How ironic, now, that he found _himself_ to be the one with no solace to offer, but rather only the awkward knowledge that came with _knowing better_.

What horrible, bitter, twisting irony.

Inuyasha, Kagome, and Shippo could only stand to the side awkwardly, unable to offer any solace to the bitterly weeping monk.

**It's been quite a while – sorry, all! Got an internship, been busy with school (I'm a Junior now!)… But I didn't forget about you all. Your reviews have been so kind – so here is another chapter (since one of you asked for insight into Miroku's thoughts). So, what do you think – is this the last chapter? I don't want it to be – but I need some reviews to motivate me! Ask and you shall receive!**


	13. My Chosen

**Disclaimer: When my world takeover is complete, the rights to Inuyasha _will_ be mine.**

**Anywho, please read and review. And read my other stories – I need inspiration!**

My Chosen

The darkness was comforting, really. It stroked her as a mother offering comfort to an injured child. It embraced her lovingly, coveting her, protecting her from that which meant to injure, meant to hurt. It pulled her down, its utter silence somehow forming a silent lullaby sung just for her…

And still, she fought for all she was worth. Even after she forgot why she was fighting – and even after she forgot _what_ she was fighting – she continued. Even as the darkness swallowed her being, even as all realization slipped away, Sango felt the insatiable need to struggle. Even though the dark permanence was, in all reality, comforting – even though it slowly made the wracking pain that was her earthly existence slip away to a warm nothingness – the young woman could not bring herself to accept it without that final effort.

But the intangible darkness would not be quenched. She didn't remember why or how, but somehow she had known all along that her efforts would be in vain.

Even after the memory had faded away, the emotions remained. She felt – happy. Content, even. She was brimming with pride and satisfaction.

But even as the intangible darkness tried to offer her the solace and comfort of the void, the faint stabs of longing sadness and regret remained. She missed – something… Someone…

But she couldn't – quite – remember who, or what, or why…

And then she saw them, and she remembered _something_.

"Kohaku… Father…"

They were waiting for her, their arms open in kind welcome, and Sango remembered how badly she had longed for this reunion. Tears of immeasurable joy warmed her cheeks as she ran towards them.

It seemed unduly cruel that no matter how hard she ran, she got no closer to them.

"I'm – coming – " she cried out to them, but she could feel something pulling at her – something holding her back…

Sango wheeled on the presence, anger flashing –

But the anger quickly dispersed at the sight of the beautiful priestess standing behind her. The woman's ghostly visage flickered and faded in an imperceptible breeze. As Sango concentrated on her, she seemed to fade into clearer view until she was entirely opaque and real. She stood directly in front of Sango, smiling gently. In the depths of her dark eyes there seemed to be a wealth of knowledge, of care – of understanding.

Even before she introduced herself, Sango somehow _knew_ who she was. The taijiya dropped to her knees in a numb mixture of shock and respect.

The priestess smiled warmly at the gesture, nodding gently. "I am Modoriko."

Sango didn't even realize that she was still crying until the priestess had already knelt down and encircled her in a comforting embrace. The woman's kindly smile never left her face even as she murmured into Sango's hair.

"I know that you want to go to them – and I cannot stop you. But the delay was necessary - you are my chosen, little taijiya."

Her ghostly hands stroked Sango's raven tresses comfortingly. "I also once gave my life to stop a dark conglomerate of demons. I gave my eternity to fight the darkness, and yet I have always known that I could never win were the gem to reside in the wrong hands." She smiled sadly, peering now into Sango's eyes. "I feared that none would stop him – this Naraku. All my energy is forever caught up in fighting the demons trapped in the gem with me – and so, I could not hope to battle him myself. I feared the war was drawing to a most unfortunate ending. I trapped myself in that jewel to _stop_ evil, and yet my existence was going to be used to strengthen it."

Perfect porcelain fingers traced the line of Sango's face, lovingly brushing away tears. "And then you came. The answer to my prayers. The sister of my soul." She smiled affectionately. "And never has anyone made me so proud."

Sango found herself unable to look at the other woman. "Your words are too kind, lady Modoriko. I am only happy to have served you…"

A cool finger hooked beneath her chin, forcing the taijiya to look up and meet the priestess's eyes. "You were willing to give up everything for the sake of good – you saved me, taijiya – you saved us all."

A blush lit up Sango's cheeks. "I could not have done it alone –"

Modoriko smiled kindly. "But without you, all would have been lost. I would have been lost. And that is why you are my chosen – my most beloved…" The priestess's voice dropped to a hopeful whisper. "You are my kindred spirit – and I would trust none more than you to finish the job. To complete the gathering of my jewel and help put an end to this eternal struggle..."

The love and caring in her voice warmed the very depths of Sango's soul, reminding the young slayer of the love of a family…

The love of a family.

A family who awaited her on the other side.

- PULSE -

Sango's eyes widened as everything around her pulsed – every fiber of the void seemed to beat with the momentary rhythm. The priestess abruptly began to fade away – her fingers, still on Sango's face, simply became a mist. The great priestess's smile seemed to turn apologetic.

"I'm afraid, however, that the jewel is not yet whole, and my battle not yet complete. I must return." She began to whisk away, backwards, towards a bright shimmer in the distance. Sango reached out a hand towards her in a futile gesture.

"Modoriko – wait – what am I to do?"

Even from across the growing expanse between them, Sango could feel the warmth exuded from the priestess's smile. "That is up to you, my Sango. You've already given so much; I could not ask you to do anything more than to follow your heart…"

A ghostly hand pointed towards the lilac shimmer in the distance. "To return to the world." The hand pointed in the direction Sango had seen Kohaku and the others. "To move on to the next."

There was a long pause before she finished, serenity exuding from her tone. "But know that whichever way you choose – I shall light your path and smile upon you always."

And then, she was gone, leaving Sango to look uncertainly from the bright shimmering to which Modoriko had retreated to the family awaiting her in distance…

**You know which Sango should choose? REVIEW! OR ELSE! **


	14. My Love

**I don't own, you don't sue – now go ahead, read and REVIEW!**

My Love

Her body was no longer entirely solid. Even as Modoriko had phased so peacefully into the mist, Sango felt herself doing the same with every moment she lingered. Her delicate-looking hand, once covered in the hard-earned callouses of a slayers life, was once again pale, new, and perfect as only a non-combatants hand could be. Sango stared, transfixed by that right hand that had unerringly guided her Hiraikotsu to fell so many foes, transfixed as it became ethereal and transparent as it stretched, longingly, towards her family.

"I love you, Father – Kohaku…" she murmured, and somehow, even her voice seemed to lack substance in this place. A surge of overwhelming love flowed through her, and she closed her eyes. A gentle, serene smile tugged at her lips; warmth surged through her, and Sango knew her decision. "And we will always be together…"

And with that, Sango stepped off that otherworldly expanse, and everything around her faded away as she plummeted through the gentle mists…

- PULSE -

Miroku paused, eyes widening as everything seemed to pause for a moment. He choked on a heart-broken sob, then frowned as he felt a shimmering of power gathering beneath his hands…

Gathering upon – or perhaps within – the body of his felled love.

"What – is going on?" It was Kagome who spoke, clutching her heart as she, too, apparently felt the strange pulsing sensation. The flow of her own heart-wrenching tears seemed to be put on pause as she looked with astonishment at Sango's hands…

Miroku's violet eyes rounded even further as a bright, pink-shimmering hue seemed to trickle from the jewel clutched in Sango's cold hands. "I – I don't know –" he whispered, almost fearfully as that strange glow trickled over his Sango.

- PULSE -

Her fingers seemed to clench a little tighter over that half of the jewel, and Miroku gasped in shock.

Was he going crazy?

If he were, he prayed to all the gods that ever existed that he could stay that way…

The power of the jewel seemed to envelop her, concentrating over her grievous wounds, seeming to mend and heal at internal and external physical injuries.

He lunged back to her side, shamelessly dropping himself protectively over her, as if to prevent any outside force from interfering with this unprecedented magic. Frantically, earnestly, he grabbed those cold hands, and there was undeniably heated fervor in his rushed whisper. "Sango? Sango!"

For an unbearable moment, all was still – and he no longer wondered if he had lost his mind; he was certain of it.

- PULSE -

Her brow furrowed, and very, very subtly, her jaw clenched. Once again, her fingers clutched over that jewel, and all at once Miroku recognized that expression: Sango was fighting.

"_Even when she thought all was lost, she fought. Even when she _knew_ all was lost, she fought. That was what Naraku never could have guessed, never could have understood: he could not break her, no matter what he did."_

Kikyo's admiring words echoed back to him, and once again tears flowed freely down his cheeks, splashing down against her waxen-looking face. "_Fight_, Sango!" he whispered, crushing her hands within his own as, once again, the signs of her life seemed to slip away. "_Fight_, god-damnit!"

- PULSE -

"Miroku –" It was Inuyasha who spoke, hesitantly touching the monks shoulder, as if to pull him back, but the human viciously thrashed the hanyou's hand off of him.

"Just follow the sound of my voice, Sango – _fight!_"

"Miroku –" They didn't believe it was happening, but he did.

He _did_. He believed in her strength. He believed in her spirit. He believed in _her_. "_Fight_, Sango!"

A gentle pulse throbbed beneath his hands, and once again, her grip tightened. The jewel seemed to brighten and shimmer, casting a life-like flush upon her pale cheeks.

- PULSE -

Kikyo paused, clutching her heart as she felt a powerful ebb and flow coming from the Shikon jewel half. But, she felt no worry – no misgivings over the use of its power. There was nothing malevolent, nothing selfish or dark about it.

The miko's head dipped, and had anyone been there, they may have been surprised to see the gentle, knowing smile that graced her lips.

"Until our next meeting, _taijiya_?" she murmured, and with that, the priestess calmly continued on her way.

- PULSE -

"_A warriors spirit. A spirit so strong that she would challenge destiny. A spirit so strong that ever will she fight it."_

Miroku paused, hot tears still stinging his eyes as he peered down at Sango. "Sango –"

She coughed.

He wept, collapsing exhaustedly over the gasping woman. With one hand still clutched possessively over hers, he used the other to eagerly stroke her face, helping the warmth to return to her flushing cheeks.

Slowly – at great length – her eyes fluttered open, and never before had those chocolate brown eyes looked so lovely to him. "S – Sango?" His heart both broke and rejoiced, screamed and wept as that beautiful gaze flickered to him.

She smiled.

He stared at her, frozen, unsure of what to do – afraid to move, for fear of waking from this unbelievable, astonishing dream – this answer to all his hopes and dreams. And there they stayed, frozen, lost in each other's eyes for what seemed like forever, deaf and blind to their companion's shocked words, uncaring to the rest of the outside world. All that mattered – all that had ever mattered – was right there, right in front of him.

His Sango.

Finally, it was Sango who broke their trance, a weak chuckle escaping her as she disentangled a hand to raise to his cheek. It was no longer cold and lifeless – there was warmth in that hand, there was life within it. "Don't look… so surprised," she laughed. "I told you… if _ever_ there were a way…"

Tears of inexplicable joy slid from Miroku's cheeks; gently – very carefully, he lifted her into his arms, enveloping her in a protective, loving, passionate embrace that he hoped he would never have to relinquish. Even so, he couldn't hold back a child-like giggle at the teasing chiding in her tone. He buried his face in her hair, breathing in and just drinking in her scent – basking her aura – reveling in all that he had been sure was lost to him. He knew, in that moment, that he never _would_ let her go – and neither would he take her for granted.

Not ever.

"And I'll never doubt you again – never again, my love…"

Sango merely smiled and lost herself in his embrace. And, in that moment, all was perfect in the world.

End

**Well, this one was a long time in coming – and I'm sorry about that! But, I got to reading your reviews again (they make me all warm and fuzzy inside), and I got guilted into finally getting this out for you guys. Just because I appreciate you all so much!**

**And, I'd appreciate your further reviews! **


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